Electricity
by mispel
Summary: Michael has a bad night and some unmet needs. Slash MichaelSucre


Electricity

It was never really quiet inside. There were too many cons breathing, snoring, coughing, grunting. A man learned to ignore all that noise. Sucre was half-awake trying to ignore Michael mumbling and turning in his sleep. Sucre murmured a "shh" hoping to go back to sleep when Michael quieted down. He didn't.

"No! Lincoln!" Michael was screaming like a maniac.

Sucre could already hear a couple of "shut the fuck ups" from the other prisoners. Sucre added his own. Michael was breathing hard and fast. In a second, he was up at the bars banging on them like he wanted to get out. Sucre jumped down, pulled him back. He grabbed his shoulders, and shook him.

"Shut the hell up!"

"I have to get him out. I have to get him out," Michael was panting like none of that air he was huffing was getting in. His eyes were crazy, wet, and darting around.

"Shut the fuck up about that. You want the bulls to come?" Sucre asked him.

"No," Michael breathed.

He looked like he had his head together a little. Still jumpy, he kept looking outside the cell.

"50 000 volts," Michael was stammering under his breath. Sucre could only hear him because their foreheads were almost touching. "The current... I could taste it. Like copper. His eyes... He was shaking." Michael was shaking too. Too much juice running through him. He was sweating. Sucre could tell as he gripped the back of Michael's neck. Sucre rubbed Michael's head with his hands, rubbed his shoulders, his back. The fabric shifted over his skin. Sucre could feel the body underneath relaxing. Mostly he could feel the body - where it curved out and in, where it was straight.

Sucre didn't know what the hell he was doing. His hands moved on their own. Michael didn't even notice. He was still looking off somewhere. He was still breathing hard, but more evenly. Not looking at Sucre, Michael was swaying a little with the movements of Sucre's hands. It seemed as if he might fall asleep on his feet. Sucre's head was buzzing - his brain was shooting off sparks inside his skull. Michael put up his hands on Sucre's waist to hang on. He lowered his chin and turned his eyes on Sucre. He looked sleepy. Or maybe it was something else. Sucre's hands slowed down what they were doing - ready to stop.

The air was different like it always is when something's about to happen. It had the smell of that moment just before a storm lets loose. Sucre was afraid to breathe it. The air was electrified, and it was going to fry him.

Michael didn't look like he was going to do anything crazy. Except he was always doing crazy shit acting like it was no big deal. He moved his head a little to the side then forward. He took a step and had his mouth on Sucre's. Their open mouth's met with a shock. Michael pushed, backed Sucre across the cell, walked him up against the beds. Sucre's arms went up and hooked on the edge of the top bunk to hold on. His body twitched. He could feel Michael's hands digging into his ribs but only faintly, in the background. Mainly Sucre felt their mouths moving together. A current was passing through them. Something powerful flowed from Michael to him and back out. Sucre's arms lowered. His hands hooked behind Michael's back then down over his ass, bringing him closer even though they were already pressed together. It wasn't close enough. Michael's fingers were scratching his back. Sucre didn't need Michael to tell him that when you build up a charge, it has to go somewhere, it has to get out. When Sucre felt Michael pull down his pants, he did the same. They fell into the bottom bunk. Michael hurriedly pulled the sheet from the top to hide them from sight.

The rhythm was just right, like someone had calculated it - someone who didn't make mistakes. A man might feel like he is going to lose his mind in that motion and not care. The force building up united them into one beat. They were one big pulse. The two of them rocked together, connected, like it was never going to end. Of course it ended. Lighting shot through their stiff, straining bodies wanting to burn them up like that - together, not let them split apart again. But it still ended, and Sucre had to see Michael's eyes turn off.

Michael separated himself, put himself back together. He was thinking about Linc frying but not like before. He was plugged into it now. His plan ran on that thought. Sucre could see his mind going like some perfect machine. He was calculating. Michael said, "I just needed something, I guess." He said it like the whole thing was already behind him.

Sucre nodded. He climbed up into his bunk. Though he lay still and listened, he couldn't hear Michael breathing. The breathing and snoring from all the other cells drowned him out. Sucre wondered how he was ever going to sleep.

The End


End file.
